The doll lay spread eagle on the oak,
its plastic blue eyes reflecting the light from the golden swing arm lamp. It
wasn’t the same kind of illumination one could expect from an operating room,
but Hazel supposed it would have to do.

The porcelain face, made to look just
like someone Hazel had once called her best friend, sent chills down her spine.
The level of resemblance was uncanny. She didn’t know how the doll’s creator
did it, and frankly, she didn’t care to find out. There were a lot of details surrounding
the manufacturing process that both bewildered and terrified her. The price
also came quite high. A year’s worth of salary, in fact. However, having spent so
much money on this endeavor didn’t unsettle her quite so much as the sense that
she’d also given away her soul in the exchange.

Hazel had a voodoo doll when she was a
kid, though it looked nothing like this one. It came in a box of assorted items
that her parents picked up at an auction. She tested it by swiping a piece of
hair from her older sister’s hair brush and tying it around the doll’s neck.
After she inserted a tiny sewing needle into the doll’s knee, a shriek tore
through the house. The sudden pain had caused her sister to tumble down the
stairs and tear a ligament. Surgery and months on crutches followed.

The power of that moment astonished
her. She placed that voodoo doll on the shelf, and there it gathered dust.
Years passed before she pulled it down again. A boy got too handsy at a party,
leaving her to run out crying with a torn dress and a whirlwind of rumors to
follow her remaining days of high school. That boy spent months going through
physical therapy after an intense pain caused him to crash his car.

That doll helped her inflict suffering
when needed, yes, but this time it wouldn’t have been enough. Not for what
Hazel had in mind. The pain inflicted this time had to be deep and permanent to
match the betrayal she felt. Friends didn’t go behind your back and steal your
husband from you. They didn’t try to lay claim to the family you’d worked so
hard to build. They didn’t smile, offer flaccid apologies, and flaunt your
children around town as if they had birthed them instead of you.

No. Friends didn’t do things like that,
and such traitors didn’t deserve any mercy.

“It’ll all be worth it,” Hazel
whispered to herself as she took the X-Acto knife in hand. She brought the
knife’s sharp point to rest against the doll’s chest. She took a deep breath before
pushing it in. The soft material that composed the doll’s torso parted easily
beneath the blade, revealing the stuffing within. It looked like the typical
cottony substance that could be found inside many children’s toys, except this
stuff had been dyed beet red. She continued the single deep incision, bringing
it all the way down to the groin.

Hazel was shaking when the lifted the
knife again. She hesitantly grasped some of the soft red stuffing and rubbed it
absent-mindedly between her fingers. Would that be enough? It had to be, right?

She shook her head. There was no sense
in coming this far to leave any room for uncertainty. One quick flick of her
wrist cut the dolls neck. She jumped back when the head separated from the body
entirely and landed with a soft thud on the brown rug.

* *
*

The local news was awash with the
horrifying details the next day. A woman was brutally disemboweled and
decapitated. A frantic boyfriend woke to find her dead and called the police.

Hazel watched those news reports with
rapt interest, though she ensured her daughters never saw them. Knowing that
the woman who’d they’d affectionately called their Auntie Karen all their lives
had died was traumatic enough. It got even worse for them when no fingerprints
other than their father’s could be found at the scene. Though his story never
changed, and no murder weapon was ever found, police concluded that he was the
only one who could have possibly committed the crime.

Sure, Hazel hated to see her girls cry,
but she couldn’t simply lie back and take it. It was a matter of principle. Her
so-called friend had to pay for what she’d done, and her ex-husband would
suffer in prison for what he’d put her through.

Hazel locked the doll away in her safe
beside all her other most valued possessions, hoping she would never have need
for such dark magic again.

Hell hath no fury indeed. Dark, evil and prompt accurate! Truth is, Hazel committed the perfect crime. She'll never be caught. So sad though that she could not get past the pain. Would this be enough or will be pain remain, still? The mind boggles.

I love this story. So dark and kind of sad. I too did some doll play in my story, but not to this degree. I love the red-died cotton. I wonder, though, what will happen now that her revenge has taken her soul.

Oh, gosh, what a bitch! I know it hurts when your husband leaves you, but he probably left because he sensed the evil in her heart and the blood on her hands. Love doesn't come on demand and it shies from cruelty. Someone should've taught Hazel this lesson long ago.Great story.

Wow LG. Don't I love this! Finally...a voodoo doll. I would have loved to have written one, but time did not allow. Hazel certainly knew what steps to take to right the wrongs against her.I hope she now leaves that doll alone.

Well, everyone has their limits I guess. I've heard voodoo dolls can also have demons attached. A scary entry, when one can kill from a distance with such a cold intent. But then, stealing a husband is a harsh way for a friend to act. A great entry!

Hi LG - definitely not a good one to read ... I'm glad it's early in the day. You really did tell us the story ... but Hazel was also malevolent and clever that she only used the voodoo at certain times in her life. I'd hate to have ownership of such a doll ... and then perhaps finding out one of your children had in later years found the doll - and made some more horrors happen. Great story ... hated it! - but loved it ... well done - cheers Hilary

You were in a dark mood too. Hazel was addicted to voodoo to get back at people. A revenge fantasy come true. Her hate and rage was so strong it consumed her.I don't think she will be happy with her life, too much darkness.